Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

A squirrel and the celtic greenman

 

At the end of the stone carving festival there was to be an auction. I was not able to be there for that, but it was possible to give the secretary a pre-bid.

 

"Oh mamma, look at this cute ekorn" Marta suddenly cried out. I hadn't planned to give any bids, but this cute squirrel cried out my name. Wouldn't it be lovely in The Blue Garden?

 

We gave out pre-bid, the one I could afford, but I knew already when we gave it that it was far too low. And since I haven't heard anything, Mark Thompson's stone must have found a home somewhere else........Well, nobody can take the dream of a cute stone ekorn in The Blue Garden away from me. And I still have the live ones, and Marta still has Mauro's glass ekorn.........

 

.....and I've found Mark's homepage to enjoy more of his art......

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While working on my book yesterday, while searching for the words that will not come, I was reading Ray Simpson's book "Exploring Celtic Spirituality ". There I read about The Green Man, a figure totally new to me, though when I read about him I knew I had already seen him somewhere. Then I opened my computer and read the comment to yesterday's post, and both Lila and Margaret mention him. I had to go back to Ray's book to read more.

Today the archetype The Green Man is getting popular again. He is shown in old ornaments as the face of a man, surrounded by leaves, often the leaves are growing out of his mouth and nostrils. Though this image has pre-christian roots, and at times resemple antichrist, there is still something with The Green Man's features that show the true image of God in us.

You can read more about this in Ray's book. A note to Ray Simpson: I have your book in a Norwegian translation, and what is written here is translated back to English by me. I am sorry for the bad translation........and faults are all mine.

The stone masons

 

Two days in a row I've been downtown to watch the stone masons. Trondheim Stone Carving Festivalstarted Saturday morning and ended with an auction Sunday night.

 

The festival was right outside my office (which is in the red brick house), and all Friday we could watch workmen making everything ready for the festival.

 

Saturday morning the stone masons, gathered from all over the world, were given a block of local stone to work with......

 

....and figures and patterns started to give life to the stones.

 

With simple tools and hand power, the artists worked, hour following hour.

 

I was mesmerized. How is it possible to find the life, the pulse of a cold stone?

 

How is it possible to know that this beautiful woman hid in the cold block of stone?

 

In one corner children were allowed to try. A popular activity for young apprentices to be.

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My first visit was Saturday morning, only hours after the masons started their work. Then I came back again Sunday afternoon......

 

.......and forgot to breath. The results were amazing.

 

I could have been there for hours, hours.......looking, photographing, talking with a few of the masons.

 

Let my fingers feel the cold stones........

 

........smile......

 

.....laugh......

 

I even met one of my blog readers from USA who is in town. Her camera was just as busy as mine.

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Today I'm dreaming of stones. Stones with life.

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Two old posts showing a much younger Marta as a stone apprentice:

St.Olav Celebrations

St.Olav Festival

Summer days. Summer nights.

 

The stone masons are in town. An international festival is going on outside The Archbishop's Palace. We went down to watch their work in progress yesterday, and we'll go down again today. Amazing. Tomorrow I'll have a ton of photos to show you.

It is summer in town. Day and night. And we are enjoying the garden.

I got a message on my cell phone yesterday morning from Ingrid. She was working, and wrote: "Mamma, will there be any grilling in the garden tonight?"  "Of course there will. Salmon, potato salad, cucumber salad. Are you coming?"

 

Marius worked in the night (the "in loves" need money for their new flat) but Ingrid came. A grill party for four, not in The Blue Garden this time, but at the back side of the house, under the huge pines where the evening sun falls softly.

 

The basket filled with cones followed us behind the house. Put a few on the grill together with twigs of fragrant herbs from the garden. The grilled salmon will be irresistable.

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Last night was one of those rare nights up north here when we could sit out till midnight. The sun waved goodbye to the kitchen veranda at 10.30. Summer days. Summer nights. I love them.

Mitt&Ditt, Mine&Yours

 

There is a new shop in town, Mitt&Ditt / Mine&Yours. Hidden in one of the red wooden houses behind Vår Frue kirke( Our Lady's church, the St.Mary's church of Trondheim). We passed by it a week ago, and almost without looking, my feet found their way though the open, inviting door. Magnetic power I guess.

 

I didn't have time for shopping then, but for a week I've dreamed of the handmade things I saw - clothes, bags, garden art.......

 

These are funghis for the flower beds, to put on a stick........perfect in The Blue Garden, don't you think?

 

 

This orange bag has been crying my name all week......now it belongs to me. yes, I went back there today, to buy two funghis and a bag :-)

 

I am not a shopper really, only when it comes to books :-) But small shops like this can almost take my breath away........

 

Suddenly I get a glimpse of what this shop til you drop-thing  is all about.......

 

When you come to Trondheim, I'l take you to Mitt&Ditt.

Dear God, keep the colours flowing in my life

 

Yesterday it was time for my monthly visit to the hairdresser. An old, old lady sat in one of the other chairs. She was waiting for some colour and some life into her old, old thin hair.

 

I had brough my book and sat there prepared to have 30 minutes in quiet, reading. But soon my silence was interupted. The old, old lady was talking to the hairdresser, telling her about her son and his family. They live in USA but were back in Trondheim for a week visiting the old, old mother.

 

The old, old lady told about the different dinners she would cook for her son and his family, old, traditional meals, the room soon filled with the old, old lady chatting, the old, old lady's spirit. Life sparkled from the old, old lady's every fibre.

 

The phone rang and the hairdresser walked over to the desk to get it. The old, old lady was left alone and I was prepared for some silence.........then the old, old lady started to sing. Not loud, more like a humming, but the old, old sweet voice filled the room. I laid down my book and knew that I was experiencing a magic moment.

I looked over to the old, old lady, she met my eyes, smiling. I smiled back and deep in my heart a prayer started to form: "Thank you God for old, old ladies with magic wands to change a gray, silent day into a rainbow and a symphony. Dear God, help me not to forget the colours in my life, at 60, at 70, at 80, at 90.......as long as I live.

 

Photos: the roses are now blooming in The Blue Garden.

 

Epilogue: The old, old lady left before me. Only when she raised from her chair did I realise she was crippled and could hardly walk. To me it looked like she danced out of the room and she left me with the rainbow.

The garden keeps us busy

 

The summer is perfect. Just enough sun. Just enough rain. And the garden is growing. The trees are growing.

I love to be surrounded by huge trees, but we also need light, so now it is time to cut down a few. But only a very few......

 

Terje is busy with his saw and his ax. I feel a litte sad when I see the trees fall, but I rejoice in the flow of light which now find its way to The Blue Garden.

 

It si easier to part with some trees in the back yard. They are so many, and the grow too fast.

 

Life is about changes. Ingrid came home from her two weeks in Spain Tuesday night, yesterday she and her boyfriend moved into a flat together. I feel happy for her. I feel sad for myself........I know I must let her grow her own way, in her own speed.

First I try to hide my tears, then I realise that it is important to show them, show them to my 20 years old daughter to show her how much she means to me......

 

As parents we are there to support, to watch the growth, to always, always make sure that she knows we are there for her.

(woops Terje, this branch fell on the peony)

As parents we are there to dig out the flower if a branch falls on it. To nourish, to water, to enjoy its beauty. To make sure that life goes on.

 

Small pleasures, and a few answers.

 

I am a lover of the pleasures of everydays. To wake up in the mornings to greet the new day, have a simple breakfast of bread and juice while I flip though the newspaper, a morning garden walk to feed the birds and squirrels, to kiss my husband good bye before leaving for work.

To make joy a verb.......

 

To pick some bright red raddishes from the garden, make a blue garden salad from what I find in the vegetable patch.

 

Take a garden walk to watch the roses which have just started to bloom, chat with my flower neighbour. A glass of rosé on the terrace before going to bed.

 

The view though my studio windows (which you here see from outside)

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Mo'a and Caterina: yes, I do have alot of fun and I do believe that alot of it has to do with how you chose to live your life. Like everybody else my life have its dark sides. When the darkness sends rain I focus on the rainbow and its colours.

Valarie, the BBQ grill is a premade one which you can buy. I would like one in my garden as well......may be one day :-)

Karen Deborah, our friends are not artists in the way you read it. What I was trying to say is that they are "artist of living" and with that I mean that they now how to live their lives rich and lovingly. Family and friendships mean alot more to them than a perfectly weeded garden or a house with the newest, poshest furniture. I love them for that!

Summertime is time with friends

 

Yesterday was my first day back at work after weeks of travelling. Alarmbell ringing at 6.30, lovely weather but no chance to stay in the garden.......untill 5pm.......we were invited to a garden party after work. Friends are such a blessing!

 

Laughter, chatting, food and friendship. Sharing of travel stories. Sun.

 

A mild summer shower threatened to chase us indoors, but 2 minutes later the sun was shining again.

 

Our friends are artists of living. Masters in finding opportinities to fill their home or their garden. Always making it easy, always making it filled with love.

 

Later, much, much later, we were home again. Terje busy repairing his bike, me sitting on the veranda outside the kitchen enjoying the late sunrays......untill after 10 o'clock when the sun went to bed behind a neighbour's huge pines.

Enjoying the roses in The Blue Garden.

 

With my mind wandering to Vienna

 

It is good to be back home, good to be back in the garden, good to be back in town and good to be back working.

 

Saturday morning it was time for some shopping, and instead of driving directly to the closest mall, we decided it was time for a stroll downtown. And coffee and cakes in the old coffee house Café Bristol.

 

While Terje ordered coffee and cakes, marta and I looked around. I never get tired of looking at people, listening to bits and pieces of words of life.

 

Café Bristol is not a Vienna coffee house, but it is a lovely place. Good coffee, fresh pastries and cakes, lovely atmosphere, art, history in the walls.

 

The cappuccino is not Vienese, but the taste is good, very good......

 

....and after our coffe break, it was time for a walk in town, looking at flowers, parks, tourists, life in general.

Oh, it is good to be back in the most beautiful city in the world!

My Good Neighbour

 

Do you remember the story about my neighbour, the old lady, who took care of our garden when we were away and Ingrid left for Barcelona?

 

I was out in the garden yesterday, replanting my sweetpeas (yes, I know I am terrible late, but all this travelling.....) when I heard my name "Britt-Arnhild, are you there?", and around the corner came my old neighbour Inger, with her arms filled with a huge bouquet of flowers.

 

"I wonder if you have a vase huge enough for these?"

 

Good neighbours are blessings. To have good neighbours adds smiles to your life, to be a good neighbour makes other people's life a song.

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Do you have any "good neighbour" stories to share?